There’s No Place Like Peace for the Holidays
or, How Christmas Cookies Were Once Nearly the Death of My Holiday Joy
I don’t know who needs to hear this, but I’ve got some wisdom to share for anyone who’s feeling stressed out by the holidays rather than at peace with them.
(Spoiler alert - it really doesn’t have to be that way and you have FAR more control over your holiday experience than you may realize…)
Once a time a time, in the late 1990s and early 2000s (when I was considerably less wise), my holidays were…hectic to say the least. Oh, the needless “responsibilities” I heaped upon myself in the name of creating “holiday cheer!” (Said cheer, by the way, was in no way experienced by me. This was back in my “put myself at the bottom of the list if I’m on it at all” days, mind you). On top of my full time duties as a home daycare provider, once the holidays rolled around, I added the role of at least half-time baker to my job description. I’d convinced myself that it was up to me to provide an amazing array of homemade treats for the families I served. After all, I reasoned, I was the one who had the luxury of being home to do holiday baking that the working parents didn’t. Somewhere deep in my mind, it was hardwired that copious amounts and varieties of baked goods = a heaping helping of holiday cheer. And I wanted so very much to give that gift to these families who meant so much to me.
Holiday baking has a very particular window. Start too early and the cookies get stale before they’re enjoyed; too late and you won’t finish before the big day. My goal was always to present my clients with a festively packaged container of treats on their way out the door on their last day with me before Christmas. And each year, though there was at least a week of late hours, kitchen mess, baking fails and some stress-induced tears, those treats were always delivered on time.
And then Christmas Day would arrive (often my only day off other than weekends, since Labor Day). On two consecutive Christmas Days during those years, I succumbed to a violent case of the stomach flu and spent the day in bed instead of making merry. It was as if once my self-imposed chores were done and I relaxed into the holiday, my immune system imploded. (These were also the days of stubbornly not paying attention to what my body was telling me because, well, “My body’s not the boss of me! I’m all about my thoughts and the stories I tell myself! My will is what’s important here!” Boy am I glad those days are behind me!)
What boggles my mind as I look back on those days of yore is this: It never once occurred to me that I could make fewer cookies, let alone (gasp!) not bake for Christmas. Seriously, it Never. Crossed. My. Mind. I was completely on autopilot when it came to what I thought the holidays needed to be for me - and the “responsibility” I had to others. It never crossed my mind that I had any right to back off and enjoy the holiday the way I wanted to, without considering what I felt I had to do for others. In fact, if you’d asked me, I’d have probably told you that it brought me joy to bake for others; that it, in fact, brought meaning to my holiday…
But did it? From my current perspective, I realize the answer is, “No,” it did not bring meaning to my holiday. Sure, the families enjoyed the treats, but the practice brought stress, physical and emotional exhaustion and overwhelm to my holiday. By any definition, that is not joy. In fact, it’s darned close to martyrdom: (“See how hard I work to bring you joy! Wow, I must really care for you!”). But it’s not love or care. Because loving others isn’t about exhausting yourself. It really, really isn’t! And taking care of yourself isn’t selfish. It really, really isn’t! We’ve been taught that it’s true - that love is measured by how selfless and labor-intensive it is to demonstrate - but it’s not. In fact, yep, I’m gonna come right out and say it:
Loving yourself should come before loving others.
That way, the you you’re offering them is a fully embraced, fully present, fully authentic you - not some stressed out, self-sacrificing shell of yourself who’s just going through the motions. It’s the real you. And the real you is better at loving from your whole being. The real you is a gift to the whole world - not just to those on your holiday gift list.
Are you courageous enough to challenge your assumption that your own lovability - and the ways you believe you’re demonstrating love to others - are predicated on some faulty beliefs?
I was.
Since I made the leap to a kinder-to-me attitude, I’ve become a different person around the holidays (and every day, but it’s particularly evident as I watch others spinning out over the amount of cheer they think they’re personally responsible for creating). I don’t want to make you jealous, but this year, I’m going into the holidays with a sense of calm, a slow pace and an introspective air about me. There’s no hubbub, no scrambling to get even more done, no last-minute details to attend to. You know why? Because I took control of the holiday instead of letting it dictate what I “should'' do. I’m celebrating on MY terms because I love myself enough to pick and choose what genuinely brings me joy.
And if that joy spreads to others, all the better!
Resolve to read more me in the new year! You can receive my essays to your inbox by signing up for free to receive my email newsletter.
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